


all fired up

by mixtapestar



Series: Comfortween 2020 [1]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Beast (The Magicians), Aphrodisiacs, Blow Jobs, Eliot Waugh's Canonically Huge Dick, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Quentin Coldwater's Canonical Oral Fixation, Sunburn, encanto oculto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26753734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mixtapestar/pseuds/mixtapestar
Summary: When Eliot invites Quentin to Encanto Oculto, he's sure that this is his chance. It only makes sense that things go immediately to shit.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Series: Comfortween 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948594
Comments: 31
Kudos: 118
Collections: Comfortween 2020





	all fired up

**Author's Note:**

> For [Comfortween](https://hurtcomfortex.dreamwidth.org/23354.html) Day 1: Too Hot!
> 
> Much love to Hoko & Rubi for reading through! <3

This was _not_ how Quentin's first trip to Encanto Oculto was supposed to go.

"I thought you put on sunscreen," Eliot says as Quentin twists around in the mirror. His pink skin is turning redder by the second.

"I forgot," Quentin snips. He swallows over the lump threatening to form in his throat. He had this whole stupid seduction plan in his head, and now he's completely ruined it. Eliot's never going to want to fuck him now.

"Well, at least we caught it before it got too bad," Eliot says. Quentin's eyes dart to him in the mirror where he's standing over the bed. He recognizes Poppers 23 and 19, but he has no idea what Eliot is doing.

Eliot comes to stand next to him in front of the mirror. He places a hand softly on Quentin's shoulder; even his room temperature skin feels soothing against Quentin's.

"Lay down for a minute. I'll go find someone with some aloe."

Quentin makes a noise of dissent. "It's still only halfway through the afternoon. You should go back out. Have fun. I can find aloe."

Eliot tuts and reaches for his hand. When Eliot pulls him toward the bed, Quentin goes without further protest. "Nonsense. You stay here, I'll be right back."

Quentin slumps into a seated position on the bed, waiting for Eliot to leave so he can feel sorry for himself in peace. Maybe he should magic the door locked, and Eliot will take a hint and at least save his own vacation. He sighs; he'd probably botch that spell too and have to pay for room damages.

He falls back onto the comforter and gasps softly at the sensation against his skin. Whatever Eliot has done has made the bed cool to the touch. Not cold, and not noticeable through his clothing, but everywhere his sunburned skin touches is immediately soothed by the magical chilly surface of the blanket. The burn doesn't even hurt that much yet, but something about the spell Eliot has left on it makes his skin feel good—almost _too_ good. Quentin pushes his shoulders back into the mattress, then shifts to press down with his back, then his legs. He kicks his shoes off and spreads out over the bed on his stomach, burying his head in the pillows, which also seem to be enchanted. It feels so good that he finds himself turned on, and his hips push down into the mattress, just a little.

Eliot pushes the door back open right at that moment and Quentin stills, hoping that Eliot didn't spot that embarrassing display.

"I found the aloe," Eliot says. Is there a smirk in his voice, or is Quentin projecting? "I take it the spell is working?"

"Feels good," Quentin mumbles into the pillow. He refuses to turn over and embarrass himself further.

"It'll feel even better with this," Eliot says, appearing in Quentin's periphery. He's put on a sheer robe, but otherwise is still in the tiny bathing suit he's been wearing all day. Even in his sorry state, Quentin still wants to climb on top of him and lick him all over. Belatedly, Quentin focuses on the bottle in Eliot’s hand. 

"May I?" Eliot asks, his other hand gesturing to Quentin's back.

Quentin nods. Eliot's hands on his back certainly won't help diminish his slightly euphoric state, but he can't find a good excuse to say no. He'll just have to insist Eliot only do his back.

But then the bed dips, and Quentin swallows back a gasp as he feels Eliot straddle him and settle his weight just below Quentin's ass. Sure, it's the only part of him that isn't burned, but Eliot could have just as easily applied the aloe from a standing position.

Eliot's hands are gentle but sure when they spread over his skin. Quentin can feel every inch of his long fingers, and it's doing nothing but turn him on further. He pushes his head into the pillow when Eliot slides his hands over the curve of his sides, just above his hips. He can't help but imagine Eliot's long fingers sliding past his waistband, either to cup Quentin's ass or continue underneath him to feel the heat of his erection.

Eliot stands to spread more aloe over the backs of Quentin's thighs, kneading Quentin's muscles as he works all the way down to his ankles. Quentin is just starting to form his excuse in his head, why Eliot should head back out now (like _now_ , so Quentin can finally address the searing thoughts in his head), when Eliot's hands are suddenly back at his sides.

Before Quentin can really register what is happening, Eliot is manhandling him over onto his back, and it feels so natural Quentin doesn't think to fight it until it's too late. His erection is noticeably pushing up against the fabric of his swim trunks, but if Eliot notices, he doesn't say anything. Quentin works to steady his breath, staring at Eliot, but Eliot remains focused on Quentin's legs.

Quentin gets to see him climb on top of him this time, the sheer robe rippling behind him as he positions himself atop Quentin's thighs. Eliot's eyes flick to his this time, a silent _is this okay?_ in his expression. Quentin's tongue darts out to lick his lips, and Eliot tracks the motion. He nods, almost imperceptibly, but it must be enough for Eliot, who squeezes more aloe into his hands and starts spreading it across Quentin's chest.

Quentin should probably shut his eyes, but he can't look away from Eliot. His robe shimmers in the light coming in from the window, and his _hands_ , god, they feel like sparks every time they touch Quentin.

Eliot leans forward, his hands sliding to the tops of Quentin's shoulders. "I have a confession to make," Eliot whispers.

Quentin's not sure if his voice will cooperate with him, but he manages to mutter, "What?"

"There's a slight aphrodisiac element to the spell I put on the bed," Eliot says, and his eyes snap back to Quentin's.

Quentin bites his lip. He doesn't trust his voice, so he just raises his eyebrows, a silent _Oh?_

Eliot sits back then, drawing his hands back to his lap. Quentin doesn't want to be too obvious in his staring, but he thinks Eliot is hard, too. "You feel good, right?" Quentin nods. Eliot smiles a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "See? No reason you can't still have fun. I can find someone for you; there was a cute brunette that couldn't take her eyes off you in the pool earlier."

Quentin feels his building hopeful thoughts come crashing down like a Jenga tower. "Oh." His voice has returned, at least. Along with his head full of self-deprecating thoughts. "No, I. I think maybe I'll just take a nap."

Eliot nods, looking disappointed. "Okay. Let me just finish up," he says, spreading a tiny bit of aloe over his fingers once more.

Quentin gasps as Eliot leans forward, his fingers tracing the curve of Quentin's jaw. Oh, right, his face is burnt too. At least he's got that to cover the blush that would surely be very prominent right about now.

Quentin lets his eyes slip shut, unable to handle having Eliot this close. He hasn't even kissed Eliot since that one drunken fumble they had with Margo a year ago, that they fought about twice and never mentioned again. He had been so sure that Eliot's invitation this year would mean a chance to remedy that. The whole reason that he forgot to pack sunscreen is because he'd been so focused on discreetly packing lube.

Eliot cradles Quentin's head in his hands, thumbs swiping gently over Quentin's cheeks. Without thinking, Quentin's eyes flutter open, and he catches the look of unmistakable longing on Eliot's face before he can wipe it away.

"El," Quentin says, grabbing for Eliot's hand as he starts to withdraw. Eliot hesitates, and Quentin uses that to draw Eliot's hand back to his cheek. "Kiss me."

Eliot's mouth falls open, and after a moment's hesitation, he leans forward. Quentin sits up to catch his lips before he can have second thoughts, but their combined momentum causes their teeth to clack together, a little too harsh to count as a kiss. Quentin huffs as Eliot laughs and cups a hand over the back of Quentin's neck. The touch is warm compared to the coolness of the spell, and it grounds Quentin a bit. Eliot moves forward again, holding Quentin in place and kissing him properly, his lips soft and inviting as they press against Quentin's.

Quentin responds enthusiastically, tilting his head to feel the slip-slide of their lips against each other. He darts his tongue out to lick over the seam of Eliot's lips, a tease that he withdraws even as Eliot's lips part for him. Eliot nips at his bottom lip, sending a spark of pleasure-pain through Quentin's body, and soon they're making out properly, with Quentin grabbing at Eliot's hips to encourage him forward, just a bit, so that Quentin can rub up against him.

But then Eliot tenses, pulling back from their heated kiss. He presses his lips back to Quentin's, just once, his mouth closed, and then sits up. "Must've made that spell stronger than I thought," Eliot says with a laugh. "Guess I don't know my own strength."

"It's not the spell," Quentin says. He can feel his heartbeat in his ears. "At least, not for me."

Eliot gives him an indulgent look, every line of his face betraying that he doesn't believe Quentin. "I'm sure it feels that way. Trust me, I've been under the influence of this spell a fair few times. If you indulge it, you can get to the point where it doesn't matter what's going on, as long as you get off."

And to Quentin's horror, Eliot shifts again and lifts up off the bed.

"Jesus, Eliot. What's it gonna take?" And maybe the spell is making him bolder, but that doesn't make the words escaping him any less true. "I sweet-talked the girl at the front desk into switching us to a room with only one bed. I've been stuck to your side _the entire time_ , touching you at every available opportunity. I've been so distracted I managed to get sunburnt all over, and you still don't believe me?"

Eliot seems to be searching for something in his expression, and Quentin stares back defiantly, daring Eliot to doubt him. He feels a thrill of victory when a smirk slides onto Eliot's face. "You really got our rooms switched? I wondered what happened there. I knew I booked a room with two doubles."

Quentin feels the slightest bit sheepish. "I just thought, y'know, it might create some opportunities."

Eliot rolls his shoulders and lets his robe fall to the floor. The sheer fabric wasn't really hiding anything, but it makes Quentin's mouth water to see the confidence return to Eliot's movements. "Far be it from me to pass up an opportunity," Eliot quips, and returns to the bed, this time pushing Quentin's legs apart and resting on his knees between them. He stretches forward once more to kiss Quentin, invigorating him to continue being bold.

Quentin runs his fingers through Eliot's chest hair, something he's been wanting to do all damn day. Eliot makes a pleased noise against Quentin's mouth and rolls his hips down, finally creating friction against Quentin's straining cock.

Quentin licks into Eliot's mouth, lost in the sensations all around him, and then gasps when he feels Eliot's expert fingers working the ties loose from his swim trunks. A few dizzy moments later, Eliot gets a hand on his dick, his fingers slick with Quentin's precome, and Quentin arches, his shoulders pushing back into the mattress and his hips pushing forward. God, he's been waiting for this for so long.

"Wanna suck you," Eliot murmurs against Quentin's lips. Quentin moans his approval of that idea, though it takes him a moment to connect Eliot moving away from their kiss with the next steps.

"Take them off," Quentin says, when Eliot starts to push his trunks down, just a bit. "Yours too," he adds, when Eliot slides off the end of the bed to take Quentin's trunks with him.

"So demanding," Eliot says with a mock-scandalized tone. His eyes are bright and pleased, though, and Quentin's mouth starts watering again when Eliot pulls his suit away, revealing the length of his hard cock. He's even bigger than Quentin remembers.

"Can I suck you, too?" Quentin asks, and he swears Eliot's eyes go darker.

"Let me take care of you first," Eliot says, his voice low and assuring, as he moves back to the bed and slides his hands along Quentin's thighs.

Quentin shifts back a little, propping himself more on the pillows so that he can better see Eliot as he fists the base of Quentin's cock and swirls his tongue around the head. Quentin's entire body is blissfully cool except for the searing heat of Eliot's mouth on him, and he utters an embarrassingly loud moan as Eliot sucks him down.

"Fuck, El." Quentin slides a hand tentatively into Eliot's hair, soft and tousled where it's dried from the pool. At what Quentin thinks is an encouraging noise, he grips a little harder, and Eliot moves a little faster over his cock.

"Yeah, fuck," Quentin says. He can't take his eyes off Eliot, his cock disappearing into his mouth on every downstroke and Eliot's expression blissful as he continues to move. Eliot brings a hand forward to roll his balls together, and then a finger slides behind, pressing down in a way that has Quentin writhing. He had wanted to ask Eliot to fuck him; he still wants that, but there's no way he'll last long enough this time. He just hopes Eliot will be up for a round two, later.

"You're so amazing," Quentin mutters, licking his lips. "Taking care of me. Turning me on. Getting, _fuck_ , getting me off." His fingers tighten in Eliot's hair. He's overwhelmed, for a moment, by Eliot's fingers, his mouth, his spell, his _everything_ lighting a fire inside Quentin without signs of going out. "I'm close, El."

Ultimately, it's the thought of getting to return the favor—Eliot's cock in his mouth, the heat and heft of it, the sounds that Eliot might make—that pushes Quentin over the edge. Eliot grips his hips and sucks him down as he comes, shouting loud enough for everyone at the pool to probably hear. Good, he thinks. Everyone should know how good Eliot makes him feel.

He urges Eliot back up into a kiss after that, chasing the taste of himself on Eliot's tongue, eager to taste him in return.

"My back feels really fucking good against the bed. Think you can come up here?" Quentin asks, reaching out to cup Eliot's ass and squeezing.

Eliot huffs a laugh against Quentin's lips. "You don't have to do that, Q. I'm good."

"The hell you are," Quentin says, pushing his hip up where Eliot's cock is pressing hot against him. Eliot bites his lip and his eyes slip shut. "Please? I want to."

Eliot blinks at him in disbelief, and Quentin stares back, resolute, until he says, "Okay."

Quentin grins in satisfaction as Eliot shuffles up the bed, settling wonderfully with his knees on either side of Quentin's chest. Quentin reaches for his cock, jutting out toward him in a hard line, and spends a few moments just pumping it idly, marveling at the length and the veins and the heat and the weight of it. It's an unmistakingly pretty dick; Quentin's dildos could never compare.

He looks up at Eliot, who looks back in fascination as Quentin stares at his dick. Feeling a little awkward, Quentin hurries to make up for his weirdness, and wraps his lips around the head. He sucks a little, pulling back to tongue at the slit, taking in every catch in Eliot's breath like it's a powerful drug sending him higher with every hitch or inhale.

He lets his eyes fall shut and thinks about what feels good. He pulls off and raises his eyes to Eliot's. "Can you…? There's lube in my bag, in that little pocket on the side. Can you get it? Y'know, without moving?"

Eliot's mouth curves into a delighted smile. Quentin hears the zipper of his bag and then, sure enough, the bottle of lube comes floating toward them.

"Look at you," Eliot says, popping open the bottle and squeezing some lube into Quentin's upturned palm. Quentin uses it to get Eliot's dick wet, to make the movements of his hands smoother as he takes Eliot back into his mouth and starts to bob over his length, letting his hands do the rest and move with him every time he backs off. He picks up a rhythm, twisting with his hand on the occasional upstroke.

Eliot's hands move to Quentin's shoulders, gripping hard. "Jesus, Q," Eliot mutters breathlessly. "How'd you get so good at this?"

Quentin preens a little at the praise. He hasn't even pulled out his best trick yet. He slows his rhythm, shifting a little, and then carefully takes Eliot into his mouth again, suppressing his gag reflex and letting Eliot touch the back of his throat.

" _Jesus fuck_ ," Eliot shouts. Every moment of the last two weeks of awkward practice with his toys is worth it for that reaction. He leaves one hand wrapped around the base of Eliot's dick, but reaches around with the other to palm at Eliot's hip, his ass. With a shudder, Eliot gets his message, and starts fucking into Quentin's mouth. It's so good, the feeling of fullness as Eliot pushes into his mouth, the obscene noises Eliot is making, the heady scent of him all around.

Quentin moves his hand back to Eliot's hip when he needs a break. He pulls off and takes his time exploring with his tongue, licking up the underside, flicking his tongue against the frenulum, sliding back down again to lick over his balls and then start all over. Eliot's dick throbs in his hand, responding to his every touch, as Eliot's breaths get louder. Quentin can feel him tensing up, so he curls his tongue around the underside of the head and moves down, once, twice, and again until Eliot mutters, " _Fuck_ , I'm gonna—" and Quentin squeezes his hip in silent permission.

His eyes flick up to watch Eliot as he comes. The way he looks absolutely lost in pleasure as he moans out Q's name—it's enough to get Quentin on track already for round two. Quentin focuses for a moment on swallowing, on keeping that good feeling going for Eliot.

Eliot pets at his hair a minute later, shifting back and letting his cock slip from Quentin's mouth. "Fu-uck," Eliot sounds around a laugh, collapsing onto Quentin and kissing him repeatedly on his lips, cheek, jaw, neck. He's got a smile on his face every time he pulls back, which Quentin mirrors. He shifts and shimmies until his weight is mostly resting on the mattress next to Quentin, and his legs are stretched out and tangled with Quentin's. Quentin is pretty sure he can feel Eliot's thighs trembling.

Quentin reaches out to tilt Eliot's face back toward his, and captures his lips in a sweet, lazy kiss. The heat of his sunburn is starting to return to him, where he's not pressing against the magically-cooled bed, but he doesn't want to move yet. Eliot settles in next to him like he's thinking the same thing.

"I've been wanting that for a while," Quentin says, bringing up a hand to trace patterns on Eliot's shoulder. "I know you probably think it was just the spell…"

"No, I believe you," Eliot says, fixing Quentin with an affectionate look. "That part of the spell wouldn't have affected you anymore, after you got off. The rest was all you."

"Oh. Well, good." Eliot is still staring at him, amusement showing all over his face. "What?" Quentin finally asks, feeling self conscious.

"You got us one bed. You wore those tight swim trunks. You _packed lube_. You were totally planning on getting some, and not with just anyone."

Quentin rolls his eyes. "That's what I was trying to tell you."

"No, I know. I'm just… enjoying that." He doesn't meet Quentin's eyes as he continues softly, "I've been wanting this for a while too."

Quentin smiles, letting the happiness that brings him show all over his face. "Well, if it took getting sunburnt for us to finally do something about it, then I have no regrets."

Eliot smiles back.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love! <3


End file.
